


The third wanderer says nothing

by Excavatrice



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent, sssscomic
Genre: Byssan Lull, Closure, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mages, Person with special needs, Philosophy, Swedish folksong, Trolls, nice clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 10:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6850762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excavatrice/pseuds/Excavatrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Onni drabble.<br/>Onni has no need of worldly possessions, but the Vesterströms tell him to buy a spare set of clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The third wanderer says nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Byssan lull, boil the full kettle,  
> three wanderers are coming down the road.  
> The first one is limping,  
> the second one is blind,  
> the third one doesn't say anything.
> 
> Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,  
> där kommer tre vandringsmän på vägen.  
> Den ene, ack så halt,  
> den andre, o så blind,  
> den tredje säger alls ingenting.
> 
> (Swedish traditional)

Torbjörn, Onni's host, asks: ”It's ten o'clock, the shops are open, why don't you go now?”  
”But what if the expedition calls, while I'm gone?” Onni says. ”I really need to talk with my sister.”  
”They are well on their way now, there will be no calls before, maybe tomorrow. Now go and buy yourself a spare set of clothes. The children say you are smelling.”  
Onni touches his bandaged ear lightly. Maybe it is not a bad thing, if Torbjörns pack of troll-kids avoids him because he is smelly. But Torbjörn gave him money, and he didn't refuse. He feels obligated to use those money. He hesitates again at the front door. He really can't make his legs move over the doorsteps.  
”Are you crying?” Torbjörn asks.  
”It's the ligth outside,” Onni says, ”so much brighter here. My eyes are not adapted ...”  
Maybe Torbjörn suddenly understands: ”There's a triple, electrified fence around New Mora. This is the second safest place on earth. Go right, then left and then you see the Commercial street, where the tailors are.” 

Onni is outside, momentarily blinded in the first sunshine in weeks. Did Torbjörn push him? The mundane world is confusing. He is not always sure of the order of the events, or why things happen, if they are not mirrored in mage-space. It is actually nice to be outside the noisy and cluttered Vesterström house. They treat him nice, feed him better, than he remember being fed, ever. But he doesn't trust them, and only works with them, because they have taken his family as ransom.  
Where Station street and Commercial street crosses, a fiddler plays accordion. Shiny coins in the open accordion case reflects the pink winter sun rays. She wears the veterans badge, though she is more or less his age. One of her legs is braced from her thighs to the foot. The brace is fastened with solid leather buckles. She sings melancholic in Sweedish. The wind's spirit plays with her black hair, while her raven luonto, sitting on her shoulder, stretches a wing. Onni stops and listens. He looks into the sky, forces the tears back. Onni counts the money in his hand and is not sure how much a sad song is worth, or the prize of new clothes. He has never bought clothes before. Before … It … clothes was given to him by his family. And in Keuruu he wore only uniforms.  
The musician kicks the case with the good foot to sign him that he should pay the music or leave.  
”I'll pay on my way back,” he says in his crude Islandic to the woman who can play and sing and nod dismissively at the same time.  
The tailor's workshop is dark as a cave, and really warm. Large posters on the walls shows drawings of elegant men in fancy shirts and trousers. An oven clad in porcelain tiles in the corner is nearly gloving. But a short, chubby man continues to fill the fire chamber with fir logs. The logs cracks and puffs like an indignant protest in the fire. Onni must wait while two other customers talk and talk forever with the age-bent tailor. He begins to sweat. He takes off his coat and slings it over his shoulder. He discretely sniffs his armpit. Maybe he should go again? Before he can decide to leave, the tailor adresses him in Swedish.  
”Only speak Islandic” Onni answers.  
”Sorry for the waiting time, there's a dance tonight. Everybody wants new clothes today. How can I help you,” the tailor says.  
”I need a spare set of clothes.”  
”Yes, I see … But what kind of clothes?” The tailor points at the posters.  
”Just, like this.” Onni looks down at himself.  
”Ah! Finnish style collar – we don't have the pattern stored, but I can measure the shirt you wear. And tight fit reindeer suede trousers. Do you need another tunic as well? The embroideries and the fringes will take some time.”  
”How much?,” Onni says.  
”10 days”  
”No, how much money”  
The tailor tells him and it is four times the amount of money Torbjörn gave him.  
”Oh!. I can't afford that.” Onni walks backwards to the door accidentally bumping into the short man. ”Sorry, friend, are you alright?”  
The man says something in Swedish, his arms full of logs and Onni can see, that his face is round and flat with small, slanting eyes. He smiles like an innocent child.  
The tailor translates: ”He says – did the beasts bite your ear.”  
”No, it was a ghost.”  
The tailor hesitates: ”I'm not telling him that.”  
Onni hurries to say: ”It was not a ghost, tell him that, I remember it wrong, it was some children who played hairdresser, it was not their fault, I must have moved.”  
”You must be the Finn staying at Vesterströms house. Those kids!” The tailor turns and tells the short man something.  
And with a chuckle, satisfied with the new explanation, the short man continues to feed the fire more logs.  
”He just loves to make fire.” the taylor says.  
Onni does not say it is already too hot in the shop. He nods. He walks to the door. When his hand is on the doorknob, the tailor says:  
”Wait. Maybe I have a set of clothing in your size and build, you can get to a reduced prize.” The tailor goes into the store room and returnes with a complete, Swedish hunter suit. ”The one who ordered this, ...” his voice breaks, ”didn't come back.” He caresses the fabric, lost in thoughts.  
Onni stands still, silent, both in the shop and somewhere else; his eyes wide open see why hunter of same build didn't come back. When the vision fades, he tries to find the right words in Icelandic. In Finnish, he doesn't say much, but at least he has the right words. Talking Icelandic, he sounds cruel, though he doesn't intend to: ”The giant was fast, he didn't see it, he died instantly. The giant dragged the body to a lake and dumped it there, why, I don't know.”  
”They couldn't find his body and we were all so afraid that he … That he … He was not immune, you know. You just took the burden of my heart. No, don't you cry too, Finnish mage. I already did that. Try the clothes. You can have it for free, I don't know what else to do with it. I can change the insignias while you wait. What is this sign? An owl?” 

On his way home, wearing the new clothes and the old clothes in a bag, he stops at the fiddler again. He drops a lot of coins in the accordion box.  
The musician stops and says: ”You do really like music, hu?”  
”Mrr.”  
”There's a dance to night, do you want to come?”  
”I don't dance,” he says.  
”I can't dance,” she says. ”I'm coming anyway.”  
”Then I'll be there too.”

**Author's Note:**

> 5/19 Updating with new canon-stuff


End file.
